Someone was paying a lot to stop a few people from making a mess of a dig site. Whatever was buried here couldn't be worth all the gold being poured into the security. Draining a lake, damming rivers, digging up some ancient mountains, it was an awful and ungainly sight. But Richard needed the money. As did every mercenary here. It was both more lucrative and safer than working for revolution armies or the royalist forces of the age, and it was a long contract.

Richard leaned up against a tree and looked away from the work. It was a pity, yes, but one had to eat. Although he was admittedly curious as to what was being dug up.

***

In a place that wasn't quite a place, a sort of rift on reality, the Tower That Isn't, a man awoke from a long, contemplative sleep. Forces were on the move now that hadn't been for centuries, and there were people that were going to stop it. In an eerily liquid motion he rose from the bed, tattered, ancient burgundy robes fluttering lightly in a surreal breeze. And then he perceived something else. Something was coming for him. An Archangel. How odd.

Interesting. He would observe how was thing going to pan out._________________Delicious tea, or deadly poison?

Sylaost watched from the shadows at the huge, ugly pit that the construction workers had opened up in the forest, his face dark with anger. Time to put a stop to this once and for all. He lifted one hand and focused. The sky grew dark overhead and thunder rumbled. A massive downpour started, focused over the pit. Within seconds, the dirt had been transformed to slick mud. He pointed again.

The ground rumbled and a rockslide began to roll down a hill, crashing into workers and soldiers, knocking them aside. He smiled grimly at his handiwork, listening to the shouting and swearing and paused for a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow. Working the spells was tiring. But he still had strength left for his final efforts.

He gestured to the ground and the plant life came alive, vines gripping workers and dragging them down. Trees and bushes sprouted, as if making a single day do for twenty years worth of growth. A surge of insects came out of nowhere, biting and stinging and causing even more general misery. He looked at his handiwork, allowing nothing more than a quiet smile to cross his face. He turned to see a bear, watching him. He leaned down and stroked on the head.

"All for you, my furred friend," he said quietly. "I do it all for you and your friends."_________________A path taken is paths forsaken.
-Old Altion proverb

And very sudden. It took EVERYONE a better part of two days to clear out the pit again. However, this time they brought in something else. Explosives. They were going to just blow the pit sky high.

This was atrociously loud. Richard and the other guards were told to look out for an old robed man who talked to animals. It was a laughable idea. Wizards and their ilk mainly kept to royal courts and Ebony, and it had been that way for years beyond memory. Ever since the Great Wizard War, those with magic had an infinitely harder time to find new trainees. That a Wizard would busy himself giving them a hard time was a laughable concept._________________Delicious tea, or deadly poison?

Sylaost returned and watched them, trembling with rage at the explosion. He turned to the various animals around him - falcons, bears, wolves, mountain lions, boars and assorted other animals that no human would want to come face to face with.

"My friends, the iron road they are building must be disrupted. You must kill the workers. But do not let yourselves get hurt. I will destroy the blackpowder that caused the noise we heard earlier." he pointed his staff. "I will cause the plants to grow and choke out the road - thorns and thick brush that will take them days to clear down.

he knew approximately where they were keeping most of it from the report from a nearby falcon who had described it. The bird was one of the more intelligent of his kind. He strode down a shallow valley and stood a short distance away, and pointed his staff, conjuring another spell, speeding up the process of decay. Immediately, the crates began to rot and fall apart, spreading the powder all over the ground. He pointed his staff at the sky again, summoning another rainstorm. In moments their entire cache of powder was wet and useless.

It'd be weeks for them to replace it as the nearest supplier was a fair distance away and would - by no means - be even remotely cheap. He turned away and went to the railroad under construction, finding assorted wounded men and women, curtesy of his animals. With a soft word he send them back to the woods and then ruined the supply line, choking it with underbrush and barriers of thorns that would take even more time to clear away. He then retreated. Another good days work._________________A path taken is paths forsaken.
-Old Altion proverb

Lisa perched near the dig site, watching, just out of site to the workers. She mentally cataloged all that she saw for any detail could come in handy. It seemed to be well guarded whatever it was they were looking for. She honestly didn't care what they thought they had to gain, she hated that they'd tear apart the forest so. Part of living in the colony was living near nature, not destroying it, but appreciating it. She silently reminded herself why she was there. To find out what they were digging for, and possibly foil the plans of that loyalist scum.

And may hap do some hunting, she would not complain if she could grab some meat on the way home. No, she'd had a good sized doe in her sight on the way here, only see its fawn run up to it. she readjusted the rifle sling on her shoulder and brought herself back to the task at hand, once more. Her mind seemed to be wandering more than usual today, she'd better watch it.

The weather changed quickly, quicker than usual. A quick shower that she shrugged off. Then she saw the oddest thing. She blinked twice to see if perhaps she was delusional. The animals were attacking the workers. It was both a triumph and yet very disconcerting. The workers themselves, most of them poor, simply needed the work and were probably from the cities where they could not possibly be taught appreciate nature.

Last edited by Kaya Tetsu on Mon Jan 03, 2011 4:38 am; edited 1 time in total

Richard gave the idea of a magical madman some more merit after their explosives were so surgically removed. However another wave of mercenaries were called in. And their orders were changed. They were not to just protect the encampment anymore. The replenishment of their resources was undoubtedly expensive and hard, and it would take significant time before they could resume blowing things up.

The new objective. Slash and burn. Take out as much of the shrubbery as they could as fast as they could. Each tree was a hundred gold coins to the man who felled it. Soon the smell of soot was thick in the air, and Richard began contemplating leaving. Money was good and all, but this job was getting nasty._________________Delicious tea, or deadly poison?

Lisa brought this news back to the revolutionists, which only fueled their hate for the loyalists. This forest was home and while they felled a tree now and then themselves, they usually used dead lumber from the edges of the forest and only hunted what was needed. They relied on the forest and over hunting and overuse of resources was not an option. She sighed as she sat in a low branch of a tree, off the ground,but not very high. She could see smoke in the distance, as she watch them burn the forest.

She'd stayed behind the time, only leading a group part of the way then doubling back. She would act as a messenger and a scout today. The idea being the quiet post would allow her some rest.

Sylaost considered the new retaliation and struck back harder than ever, growing back the forest as the mercanaries chopped them down, occasionally trapping them within the trunks themselves. He had the animals ambush them, slaying them from behind and then hiding the bodies to spook them. He conjured fog, rain, mud, stinging insects, anything he could to make them miserable.

He prepared a mixture and sent a raccoon to deliver it, poisoning dozens of them. The next morning, a good chunk of the camp was officially dead, near death or seriously ill. He used his abilties to rot the very camp around them, leaving them out exposed to the elements. He made it unbearably cold, unbearably hot, sabotaged more supplies. He summoned landslides, mudslides, snowstorms.

They will be driven out, he thought grimly. I am a Guardian of the Wood and I protect these woods!_________________A path taken is paths forsaken.
-Old Altion proverb

The rebels, who had been doing their best to foil to the efforts of the workers and mercs had completely pulled back. They brought with them stories of a very disturbing nature. The forest grew back quickly, obviously the work of magic. But the weather and the animals were fighting, ambushing and even killing the workers and mercs.

She sat thoughtfully on her perch, where she played lookout for any of the mercs that came running this way. She was not far into the forest at all. No, everyone was scared to go in too far now. She sighed, after all she'd seen now...she didn't know what to think. She went back to looking for any signs of people headed her direction, and saw none. This was both comforting and disconcerting to her.

She chastised herself silently, when will you ever pick a side? You can't have it both ways!

She shook her head and was glad when someone came to relieve her post. She needed to get some rest. It was going to be a long day tomorrow, something told her that the future held some not so great events.

A Faerie appeared before Sylaost that night, clad in naught but her hair and appearing as fair as one could imagine, not with intend to influence the mortal mind, per se, but merely because mortal prudishness was alien to her.

"Oh ye Guardian of these woods who bear no name amongst your kindred in these later years, but in ages past was known as Greatwood, which once bounded from coast to coast of this continent, I come to thee, for thou artistry with these meddlers brings me joy, and their suffering eases that of the wood.

I offer ye my art for yours, for mine is that of this very world, a soul older than time, to fuel yours so that our revenge might run sweet and finally drive these troublesome locusts back to their cities of stone. Nay, mayhap we drive even those to dust, and reclaim the wood! The iron road is relentless, and the fumes of their reek kill the growing things! Accept my aid, and we shall be one in this accord and stop them!"

Richard spotted a rebel train moving only to find the ruin of the camp before him. He'd spent most of the day avoiding the others. The terrors unleashed guaranteed a mad mind of pure malevolence behind it, and he did not want to see where the next blow landed. And then, suddenly, everything was grey. A man in burgundy robes stood before him, snow white hair and eyes of dark and skin of olive.

"Richard Williams, son of Kings," he said in a voice that sounded ancient, a voice of a man who'd seen everything. "Know that destiny upon you, and your actions from now on determine the fate of not only yours, but the grandchildren of those around you. I offer a gift in good spirit, that you may heed my call."

When the robed man pulled out a sword, Richard shot him. Between the eyes. From the hip. Perfect. Except, he wasn't bleeding. He didn't show a wound. He wasn't dead.

He actually smiled a crooked smile, and chuckled softly, "Fifteen minutes of reloading for a wasted shot? Was it worth it? I offer you this ancient blade," and the sword was of an ancient design. A broadsword with odd letters inlaid in the blade and strange writing upon the hilt. "I give this to you so that you may give to to another, one to which it belongs. Once you have done that, I shall give you another gift, one for you. But, for the time being, the sword is yours, and keep it well. If you wish to live, leave this camp and leave your employer. Dark times are coming. Revolution is in heat, and your feeble running will not escape her lustful embrace."

Color returned, and he found that the sword was strapped to his belt. Whatever was going on, he was now officially terrified._________________Delicious tea, or deadly poison?

"My lady," Sylaost offered a bow. He was surprised by all of this, but didn't question it. It "Your offer seems good to me and is aid beyond that which I ever expected to get to achieve my goals. Yet, as my people say, there is no such thing as a free lunch. Please do not take this the wrong way, but I would be wary in accepting such a thing - are there conditions to your offer? Are there strings attached? Please tell me so I consider more carefully and provide you with an answer."

Next to him, Bruin, his faithful bear that he had raised since he was a cub, snorted fitfully, barely troubled by the shimmering presence of the fairy. Odd, indeed. The faerie's assistance would be most invaluable to his cause - in truth, he was tired, weak and feeling frail. He had expended considerable power over the previous days and weeks, causing much strain to himself._________________A path taken is paths forsaken.
-Old Altion proverb

Lisa made her way to the house where she currently lived. It was right next to the small inn. She lived with the innkeepers family. She worked for the milita/revolutionists, hunted, and helped out. In exchange she had food on the table and roof over her head, it was pretty good deal.

She smiled at the innkeepers wife as she entered the house and ate the stew placed before her on the table. It was nice not to have to cook for herself. She thanked her and headed off to clean her weapon and crash. She needed sleep before patrol tomorrow. It promised to be an interesting day.

"You wish my speech more plainly worded, champion of the fur'd?" she chimed musically. She laughed, a sound akin to the ringing of water on rock, and a sensation of renewal overtook Sylaost. "I offer you the choice of acting as an agent of your own or to bear the mantle of my champion, a position no mortal has held in centuries. Indeed, mortal consorts are oft the greatest asset my kind desire, as we require protect from certain means," her eyes narrowed and her glow darkened for a moment, "The iron road means death to my domain and injury or death to me if I do not prevent it. As it does you, Sylaost, son of Hanna and Geoj, who watched most fearfully as the world of Man denied even the most basic of rights to their kin, and destroyed those you loved for love of a rock. Do you not wish to protect Bruin the Brave from the fate they suffered?"

Richard ran out of the camp. He ran far, far away. He was scared. Whatever was happening was like the time with that Dragon, and then he tripped and fell. And then he cried. Scared was too mild a term for what he felt. Little did he know he was literally a stone's throw from an inn as he lay in the cold earth, weeping profusely._________________Delicious tea, or deadly poison?

Syalost bowed his head. "Then if that is your desire, then I will accept it. I will be your Champion. I will protect the woods - it is all I desire to do is to drive out the invaders and live in peace and solitude as I have since I was but a lad of sixteen summers. I anger at the woods and the suffering that all of the creatures go through at the wanton destruction of my home. The city is not my home. Perhaps once in name, but I never truly felt connected to it.

"My answer is yes."

he stroked Bruin's head while looking at her full in the face._________________A path taken is paths forsaken.
-Old Altion proverb